


I Left The Place That You Go Home

by scorchedmint



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, I'll name the specific AU at the beginning of each chapter, Implied Sexual Content, Rating May Change, Songfic, but not like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-01 05:27:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13991436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorchedmint/pseuds/scorchedmint
Summary: Pidge doesn’t know whether talking to him was the best or worst thing she’s ever done.--A collection of Lotidge drabbles; all written in the style of using the lyrics themselves as prompts; occasionally using the lines as dialogue. 300-1,000+ words per drabble.





	1. I Hope It's Already Too Late - No Children

Pidge vaults herself over the recently-upturned stall in the market, a sack of stolen goods swung over her shoulder as she fires off a few warning shots. She grew up in this lazy little town, spending her days caring for her ill father and brother, sun beating against her back and seabreeze spraying in the wind. The young girl had always been a bit of a spitfire; not content to stay in one spot, bounding across the yard to roughly wrestle with her brother; it was a concern of the neighbors, she knew, because they’d clearly spit their distaste for her boyish ways as she went shopping in the market with her mother. 

If someone were to ask her what turned her to the seafaring life, she’d state her love of the sea, how she grew up so close, of her longing for freedom from her family life. Behind the closed doors of her ship’s quarters, however, she drinks herself into a state where she’s too vulnerable. Too easy to persuade, too agreeable. If someone were to ask her then, why she decided to become a criminal, she’d tell you about how the rules of her childhood broke her down, how the expectations of her gender never matched her ideals, how the simple act of reading made her a witch. She felt a touch out of time, here, as if her soul was displaced,  _ lost _ , in an era that only sees her as a means to an end. 

That’s what brings her to today, where she’s ransacking the town she left behind five years ago, catching the eyes of the boys she knew growing up- she can spot Lance’s lanky body easily among the crowd, and see the odd scar Shiro bears from a bit away; watches the cowering form of Hunk as he hides behind Keith. Good- they didn’t seem to recognize her. Her hair was short, now, cropped close to her head and longer in the front; a pair of glasses decorates her face although she doesn’t really need them. Turning heel and sprinting away, the sound of hoofbeats not too far behind her- it sends a thrill up her spine. She can just barely see her ship in the bay, crew spotting her and beginning to pull up the anchor. 

Pidge knew she’d be fast enough to catch it, her short legs not a problem for the sheer stamina she possessed; she catches onto the anchor as it rises from the sea, herself and her loot unscathed. This was, more or less, just to scare the town; she scored some fresh foods for her crew as well. At least they won’t be eating hardtack again tonight. Mostly women run the ship; they masquerade as men, cut their hair short, wear heavy clothes. It’s just safer that way. 

Well.

As safe as being a pirate can be.

Days turn into weeks turn into months as she sails the open seas; occasionally when her and her crew run into a rival pirate ship, they have to fight for their lives. Just more of the same cocky men who don’t know what’s good for them, brandishing their poorly made swords and fighting her tooth and nail before meeting their end at her blade. On those late nights where she’s drank too much rum, she thinks she can hear their voices haunting her. Begging her to have mercy, to spare them, they’d do  _ anything, please-  _ Pidge shakes her head, takes another swig of liquor. ‘ _ To be free _ ,’ she muses, ‘ _ some sacrifices must be made _ .’ And if that means weeding out the weak, plundering their ships and leaving them to sink to the bottom of the cruel sea, then she was not going to try and change the nature of life.

They port in a pirate cove,the ramshackle city just the remnants of an old island settlement that clearly needed a good coat of blood to be livable. If there was one thing she missed about home life it was being clean. Getting all the dirt and dried blood out from underneath her fingernails was impossible, not to mention the state of her clothes. So they stop here to pick up cleaner things, to trade in old loot and steal new ones, to make bets and get  _ drunk _ and  _ fuck _ with wild abandon. That’s what  _ she _ sets out to do, anyway. A pretty man with long, silken black hair catches her attention- and he’s a lot cleaner than half the men at this bar. 

Pidge doesn’t know whether talking to him was the best or worst thing she’s ever done.

He didn’t just manage to worm his way into her bed, but into her ship, her life, her heart. They raid together, have each other’s backs in the short-lives scrummages on the open waters; he snags the interesting books from the shelves of the cities they raid for her. They pour over the pages together, theorizing, competing with each other in a way that she’s never been challenged. Longingly, they stare at the stars, feeling a sense of wanderlust that neither can place. Lotor holds her hand tightly in his when the sun begins to rise.

This peace couldn’t last, of course. Her crew betrays her on mainland, steals away the ship and everything Pidge has worked so hard for all these years, and Lotor clutches her shoulder so tightly she bears fingerprint bruises for a week. They take to petty thievery, gradually working themselves back up to the senseless, free feeling of mindless fighting, weaving between each other as they kill a whole town full of people for fun. They get drunk, waste away in the only bar in town, pouring themselves awful mixed drinks and stumbling over the corpses of their perceived enemies. Moving from town to town like this, to release stress, to enrage the locals- it was all she wanted.

A fire blazes brightly in their path of destruction. Orange and red lick the skies and paint it with thick black smoke, a bottle of brandy in her hand and a half-full glass of wine in his. They stumble away, press each other into the trees, act like animals before passing out cold in the forest. They wouldn’t be able to run forever, and they know it, but for now they ransack another town and steal a ship, small enough to man themselves. 

“Let’s just… find a little island somewhere. Make a home of it, yeah?” She hums, fingers tapping to a tune she no longer remembers on the wheel. “Just us and all the loot we can carry.”

Lotor laughs heartily, and she thinks that maybe it’s the best noise she’s ever heard; something close to a drum and a chime. He adjusts the sails, takes a swing of stale beer. “And someday, when they catch us, we leave them nothing. Burn it to the ground.

“Now you’re talking!” Pidge laughs, light and airy, spinning the wheel fast and hard and- “Fuck.”

Captured, by vengeful men who heard of her prowess. Of how she had destroyed whole crews on her own, set flame to entire cities, and she’s almost unhappy that her reputation has been exaggerated so much. Her hands are bound, and from where she can see Lotor, his are as well. They tug on the short strands of her hair, tilt her head back and press a knife to her throat. He barks out commands to his crew to search their ship and take everything, to sink it, before tossing her to the feet of her lover. He drops to his knees, tries to help her up, but with her hands bound there’s not much she can do to push herself up. 

The sun is just beginning to set when she watches her ship go down, wet gulps of water rushing into the broken floors. Turns her head away from the sight, meets Lotor’s gaze as she waits for the inevitable. She feels the ropes around her wrist get tugged as she begins to get dragged to her feet, and she lurches forward towards him in a moment of desperation, because she  _ knows _ what happens next and dear  _ god, she’s so afraid to die _ -

“ _ Lotor-! _ ”

“ _ Kaite-! _ ”

The pair of them are thrown carelessly into the sea, hefted over the edge of the ship. The water is painted in reds and yellows, and she thinks about the people she’s killed, the cities she’s burned- Lotor manages to get closer to her, and they struggle to try and untie themselves. Cold water rushes in her ears as the waves begin to turn a bit more harsh, wind whipping about their heads. Legs kicking uselessly in the water, she knows it’s just a matter of time before they drown. The pirates have already begun to sail away, the darkness of the night sky settling in, stars glittering above them now. 

With a bit of strength that her body tells her needs to be saved for  _ surviving _ , she pushes forward to press a desperate kiss to his lips. He returns just as roughly, tinged with the salt from either tears or sea, before they have to break apart.

The water rushes over their heads for a moment, soaking their hair with the salt of it, currents tugging and pulling at their limbs as they drift. It was hard enough to stay afloat with bound limbs, as they were, but to try and fight the rising sea as it sets to swallow you whole? A fool’s errand, and they both know it.  His hair’s a mess about his shoulders, inky black against the grey of the sea, her own sticking to her forehead as she once again gets dragged under the current. Neither will last much longer, and they both know it; they catch the gaze of the other for just a moment.

“This is it,” he chokes through a mouthful of water, shoulders thrashing. 

“At least we’ll die together,” she laughs through her lungfuls of ocean, sputtering as she feels the weight of the waves crashing against her. “I hope you die.”

“I hope we both die,” and he’s laughing then, too, their heads bump together as the tide finally takes them.


	2. Just Stay With Me - Jet Pack Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jet Pack Blues - Fall Out Boy
> 
> \--
> 
> Human AU!

He had run a long couple of weeks ago.

Pidge didn’t know where he went, or why, but it was making her so anxious to not get a single call back. Or a text, even! It’d been two weeks, and nothing. She lets her head fall from her hands with a dull ‘thud’ onto her desk, curling herself up into a ball on her chair. Was it something she said, or did? If she didn’t stop this train of thought, she’d wind up crying herself to sleep; or worse, relive her memories.

They had met in a bar that her friends had finally managed to drag her to; she was never one for large social gatherings, so losing a bet was about the only thing that could make her go. Pride is something she’s filled with after all; along with whatever drink she’d ordered an hour ago. Her friends pointed out that she’d been staring at this guy at the bar for twenty whole minutes, and at her sputtering, pushed her to go talk to him. Hunk’s doofy thumbs-up is one of the few things she remembers. This dark-haired man that she guesses she was staring at gives her a wry smile as she comes over, offers her a drink (which she pays attention to- she’s read horror stories) and asks her name. His is Lotor, and he talks in an _accent_ and she’s hooked. They share drinks and stories for that whole night, and in the morning, she wakes up in a room that she doesn’t recognize- immediately she’s patting down her clothes, but nothing is out of place.

Relief floods through her as Lotor emerges from his bedroom, still also in his clothes from last night, and sheepishly offers her breakfast. He also offers her his number, and from then on they made a habit of going out for drinks on Fridays, then on Saturdays, before it becomes commonplace for them to meet for lunch and dinner. They get along quite well, and he’s _smart_ and _funny_ -

Pidge shakes her head, looks out the window where the grey clouds are heavy with rainwater.

Well. She guesses she can go and see if he skipped town. Shrugging on a long black coat (his, borrowed and never returned), she grabs her keys and bolts out the door of her apartment. The time it takes to get there is minimal; she parks in the same lonely spot she always does, runs into the lavish building between some residents who’re braving the storm. She’s soaked through, hair sticking to her face as she punches the keys of the elevator. Once arriving at his door, water logging her boots, she hesitates before knocking twice.

Her heart stops as the locks click, and she spots him in the crack of the doorframe-

“Baby, come home,” She sniffles, and he crumbles into her arms.


End file.
